


Boundaries

by allimarie_xf



Series: Not your typical secretary [3]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: CEO! Oliver, EA! Felicity, F/M, Mostly Fluff, Season/Series 02, Unresolved Sexual Tension, conceivably canon-compliant, fictober18, go me, pre-oliver/sara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 00:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16252562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allimarie_xf/pseuds/allimarie_xf
Summary: “You shouldn’t have come here,” she repeated wistfully, chancing a glance in his direction.He stared straight ahead as he walked, but she could read his profile well enough to recognize his remorse. “Yep.”~~~Season 2 UST!~~~In which Felicity learns that bosses tend to trample over their employees' boundaries and Oliver is no exception.Also my entry for Fictober18 Day 9: “You shouldn't have come here.”





	Boundaries

**Author's Note:**

> Like the other stories in this series (Not Your Typical Secretary), this one can stand alone or be seen as loosely connected to the others. Within that universe, I would insert this story like this:
> 
> 1\. [Presentation is Everything](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15935147)  
> 2\. **Boundaries (this story)**  
>  3\. [When the Stillness Bends (All the Places We Touch)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15973835)  
> 4\. [I Hold the Lock and You Hold the Key](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15928439)  
> 5\. [Too Much or Not Enough](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15859746)  
> 6\. [One Night to Be Confused (One Night to Speed Up Truth)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16208831)
> 
> This story could conceivably be considered canon-compliant.
> 
> And this is also another Fictober18 tag because the last one was fun to write and I'm still on vacation and not in a good headspace to work on my WIP.

Felicity huffed in frustration as her cell phone chimed its Oliver-specific text notification for the 8th time in the space of 2 minutes. It wasn't the Arrow-related 911 chime that would have made her drop everything with a racing heart. Nope, this one was reserved for non-urgent communications, which was why the fact that he had been texting her with increasing frequency over the last twenty minutes was both irritating her and piquing her curiosity. Which only annoyed her more, because her hands were under a nail dryer and currently unavailable to check her phone.

"You're popular today!" Miriam spoke lightly from her position near Felicity's feet, and Felicity couldn't tell if her regular manicurist was more amused or annoyed.

She rolled her eyes. "My boss. It's 30 minutes! Out of, like, _two weeks_! You'd think he could cope with me being away for 30 minutes out of every two weeks." She shook her head. "It's not like I even usually take a real lunch break! Ugh. We have _got_ to work on boundaries."

Miriam smiled sympathetically, used to Felicity's habit of talking to herself. "You're a secretary, right? From what I hear, I think you guys end up doing all the work while the boss gets all the credit."

Felicity cringed slightly at being taken for a secretary, but didn't bother to correct the woman. After all, semantics and qualifications and actual job duties aside, she wasn't technically wrong. "You don't know the half of it," she muttered.

"Oh my god, do you have to pick up his dry-cleaning?" Felicity looked to her right at the speaker - a woman whose name she didn't know, but who looked familiar enough to be another regular. "I completely regret letting Mr. Peterson find out that my nail salon is located down the street from the cleaners." She sighed. "But I absolutely drew the line at buying gifts for his mistress. There are some things I just don't need to know." She shuddered dramatically.

Felicity pressed her lips together in a slight smile of commiseration, feeling suddenly fortunate. Yeah, having to act as Oliver's Executive Assistant compromised her sense of identity, not even taking into consideration the office rumors, but at least her boss was still Oliver, and not some philandering pervert.

The woman sitting at a foot spa across from them was shaking her head emphatically. "Tell me about it! My boss's girlfriend is 30 years younger than him at least and let me tell you - one time I walked in on them in my office - on my desk! And of course he just laughed and asked me to wait outside."

Felicity's jaw dropped. She looked from one woman to the other, horrified and trying to determine if they were joking. But they didn't seem to be, and their resigned acceptance of their situations left her cold.

From the waiting area, a third voice called out. "Bet you guys wish you had won the boss lottery!" Felicity glanced over to see the woman holding up this month's _Fortune_ magazine. Oliver's face was featured prominently, and handsomely, on the cover. Oliver had reluctantly given an interview and allowed himself to be subjected to a photoshoot mainly at Felicity's urging. It was good PR for the company, and honestly, given the recent hostile almost-takeover and Isabel's continued presence, any and all public association between Oliver and his family's company was particularly good ammunition against Stellmoor's encroachment.

"Oh, Oliver Queen, CEO! Don't I know it." Felicity's stomach did a little swoop as she realized the direction the conversation was going. "Just think: some lucky person out there is his EA."

"I wonder if it's a woman?"

"Probably a different woman every month, if we're honest."

"I would still take that job, no matter how brief. I mean, I know we're fighting against a long history of stereotypes here, but honestly, we're talking about Oliver Queen. I'd be willing to compromise on one or two of my longstanding principles."

Felicity glanced around the room, noticing that every head was nodding emphatically. Her ears burned, as if they could somehow deduce from her silence that she was the "lucky" employee in question, but she didn't judge them. She remembered how involuntarily flattered she had been by Oliver's attention before she really knew him. She honestly couldn't say with certainty that she wouldn't have willingly become an Oliver Queen statistic, had it come to that. Not that it would ever come to that now. Ugh, that sounded bitter and she wasn't bitter. She was close to Oliver in ways that few people were, which was way more fulfilling than a fleeting romance would have been. Way more.

"God, how is one man so beautiful? You should all take a close look at this article." The speaker held up the magazine so all could see, pointing to a close-up on Oliver's enigmatically smiling face. "That jaw."

"Those eyes! I don't think I could ever look away."

"Um, that _body_ , hello!"

Everyone in the room laughed in agreement.

The woman with the magazine flipped the page, so that they could all appreciate a full-page shot that showed Oliver, casually leaning against a window with the city spread out in soft focus behind him, dressed in one of his perfectly tailored suits, the coat removed and draped over his shoulder. Felicity sighed along with the rest of the women, and there was a pause in discussion as everyone took a moment to enjoy the view.

The communal reverie was interrupted abruptly by the jarring clang of a bell announcing that someone was coming in from outside. Everyone automatically turned to the door to see Oliver walk in, carrying two coffee cups and a brown paper bag. His eyes immediately locked on Felicity.

He walked straight toward her, casually graceful and oblivious to the sudden silence and the fact that every eye in the room was turned on him. "Hey! I've been trying to contact you. Decided I needed to get out of the office after this morning's board meeting, and I knew your salon was right by the coffee shop so I figured I'd meet you here and we could walk back together." His lips turned up sheepishly and he held up the brown paper bag. "Wasn't sure if you wanted a croissant or a scone or a muffin or a brownie, though, so I got all of them."

Damn him. Why did he have to be so fucking considerate? And on top of that, he was giving her those soft eyes, the ones that were all attentive affection and so much more intimate than the guarded gratefulness that even a few months ago had been enough to make her feel warm and distinctly appreciated. Ugh, no, she needed to stop. They were friends, and he was only trying to thank her for all her help, which was, honestly, the least he could do.

His smile faltered a little when she remained silent. "No good?" He sounded truly disappointed.

"No, no. All of those are fine, it's just..." She looked around the room. Everyone was still staring at them, and the first thing she thought of popped out of her mouth. "How did you even know where my salon is? Or that I go to a nail salon at all?" These were not important questions, she knew, but she was curious and seriously, what was he doing here?

"Felicity." He was doing the intimate gaze thing again, and god help her she was susceptible to that look, even if he didn’t realize what he was doing. "How could I not know? Every other Thursday at 12:30 you leave, and when you come back approximately 28 minutes later, you have a different color on your nails. And since this is the only salon that you could reasonably walk to in that amount of time, I knew this has to be the place."

Her heart fluttered a little that he had taken such careful notice of her habits, and wow she really needed to stop taking everything so personally. He was an observant man, she knew this. She flicked her eyes around the room and yes, Oliver’s casual revelation had shocked all the other women in the salon. It was not an ideal situation. She lowered her voice in a vain attempt to keep their conversation private. "You shouldn't have come here."

Oliver furrowed his brow immediately in response, glancing around the room as if looking for threats. He smiled slowly at her, as if he suspected she was pranking him. "Why not?" he stage-whispered. He turned his attention to Miriam, who had finished her pedicure but was still sitting there, staring at Oliver. "Is there a 'No Men Allowed' policy or something?"

"Oliver! Oh my god!"

"What?" Damn his too-innocent face. That was one of his specialties.

"That's sexist!"

Oliver laughed, dimples on full display and charmingly contrite. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be sexist. But," he leaned down and whispered, putting his lips much too close to her ear for her composure, "why shouldn't I be here?"

She gave him a patented smile and placed her hand on his forearm. "We'll talk on the way." She stood up, and he backed up just enough to let her by and then followed her closely toward the counter. The woman in the waiting area was still holding _Fortune_ magazine, which was turned quite obviously to the article on Oliver. She was staring at him openly.

Oliver turned around in place and finally, finally noticed that everyone was gaping at him. Felicity felt his hand come to rest on her back.

"Mr. Queen!" It was the dry-cleaning EA, who had stood up with sudden decisiveness. "Can I get your autograph?"

Miriam had joined them at the counter, processing Felicity's payment. Felicity kept her head down, waiting for Oliver's reaction.

"Uh, sure!" He didn't sound at all sure.

The woman stalked toward Oliver, and Felicity felt his fingers squeeze against her side.

"You poor thing. What was it like, being shipwrecked all those years?" As she spoke, she blindly pulled a legal pad out of her briefcase as her eyes roamed up and down Oliver’s body.

Felicity turned, standing up straighter and asserting her presence. Oliver flicked his eyes toward her, seeming to draw courage from the steady look she returned.

He flashed a dazzling, insincere smile at the woman as he signed her legal pad. "The maid service and restaurant options were terrible."

Before the woman could respond with more than a breathy giggle, Miriam had rounded the counter and was pressing two business cards into Oliver’s hand. "One to sign, please. The other for you to keep." She pointed at the information printed on the card, letting her eyes rake over him before smiling boldly. "My cell phone. Men are _definitely_ allowed."

Oliver’s eyes widened and Felicity, noticing that the magazine woman was also now moving toward them, realized that things were rapidly getting out of hand. Intending to send a clear message to the other women in the room, she placed her newly-manicured hand on Oliver's shoulder and dragged it slowly, meaningfully, down his arm, letting her fingers entwine with his. "Oliver."

She instantly had his full attention and she read surprise in his eyes as he correctly interpreted the direct, dark, possessive look she was giving him. She watched his gaze travel to her lips before dragging back up to her eyes, and she licked her lips involuntarily. Her heart sped up as he stared intensely back at her, and what was happening? They were putting on a show for these women, right?

Right? But why did it suddenly seem like the other women didn’t matter at all? Why was her heart beating in her throat and why was Oliver looking at her like he had unexpectedly been offered his heart’s desire and he was waiting for the catch, holding his breath for fear that he wouldn’t be able to pay the price? But what even was she thinking, that was silly and she blinked and then he blinked and shook his head slightly, and to stave off embarrassment and get the hell out of there she wordlessly tugged on his hand and he followed her out of the salon without further encouragement.

As soon as she was sure they were out of sight, she unceremoniously dropped Oliver’s hand and unconsciously wiped her palm on her skirt, as if she could wipe away whatever bizarre and pleasant but probably anomalous and definitely dangerous to her heart moment she had just shared with Oliver.

Without a word, he handed her a coffee.

She took a sip, then shook her head. What a mess. “You shouldn’t have come there,” she repeated wistfully, chancing a glance in his direction.

He stared straight ahead as he walked, but she could read his profile well enough to recognize his remorse. “Yep.”

They walked a few more minutes before the silence became too much, and Felicity decided to take charge of the moment. She put her hand on his shoulder and caught his eye, asking him to stop so she could address him. Without hesitation, he turned and gave her his full attention.

Which was just like normal, and she took it as a sign that everything was going to be fine between them. He looked at her openly, and she was almost certain it was the same frank look he had always given her, with no specific overtones of yearning or anything like that. Almost certain.

He lifted his brows, waiting for her to speak and Felicity flushed, realizing she had just been staring at him. Again. Three, two, one. Time to lighten the mood. “You know what this means, right?”

His brow crinkled in genuine confusion. “No, what?”

She narrowed her eyes at him in mock annoyance. “When we get back to the office, you’re finding me a new nail salon.”

Surprise broke over his features, and the remaining tension evaporated, as Felicity had intended it to. “Felicity, how would I -”

“Yelp. And it better be within half a mile radius of the office! These shoes were _not_ made for walking.” She turned and started back toward the office again.

It took Oliver a second to catch up. He was quiet a moment longer, sipping his coffee, then he looked over at her, considering.

They had reached their building, and Felicity waved to the familiar security officers as they moved toward the executive elevators. Finally, Oliver’s pensive silence got to her. “Well? What?”

He remained silent as they entered the elevator and watched the doors close, then he gave her a sly sidelong look.

“Oliver Jonas Queen, _what!?”_

He looked back toward the doors and shrugged, not commenting on her use of his middle name. “We could get an in-house salon for employees. Put it next to the gym on the 15th floor.”

Felicity stared, her mouth open but no words forthcoming.

The doors opened on their floor and Oliver stepped out, turning toward Felicity who was frozen in place. He smirked. “Coming?”

 

* * *

 

Two weeks later, Felicity was back from her nail appointment in 17 minutes. Oliver didn’t look up as she entered the office, but she knew he had noticed her return. She slipped her feet out of her open toe heels and waited as Oliver wandered over to her desk.

“How was it?” He tried to appear casual, but Felicity could tell he was a little smug.

She swivelled her chair around and presented him with 10 perfectly manicured fingers and 10 perfectly manicured toes.

He made a small, impressed whistle, then leaned his hip against her desk and continued to stare down at her, a small, faraway smile on his face.

Felicity watched him comfortably, letting him look at her, even if, as she assumed, he wasn’t really seeing her. Lately he had become slightly more content in general, and she was glad every time he took the opportunity to shed some of the weight he constantly carried around. She smiled to herself before spinning her chair back toward her computers.

“What are you doing?”

The suddenness of his question made her look up, her fingers pausing mid-type. “Uh. Work? Specifically, I’m transcribing notes from this morning’s meeting to be sent -”

“No, I mean. You still have,” he looked at his watch, “approximately 10 minutes left.”

Felicity lifted her eyebrow expressively. “Ten minutes before what, exactly?”

Instead of answering immediately, he pulled her chair away from her desk and swivelled it back toward him before seating himself fully on her desk and stretching to lean back on his arms. It was quite a display of his effortlessly masculine physique, and when he looked at her sidelong with a barely perceptible smirk, Felicity wondered if he hadn’t done it on purpose.

She raised her hands in an elaborate gesture to indicate she was still waiting on his response, but she gave a tiny smile, signifying her willingness to indulge him.

He blinked. “What. You think I put a day spa in the building to steal back 20 minutes of your break-time a month?” He shook his head, his eyes locked on hers. “I may be your jerk boss, but I’m not that selfish.” His words and smile were light, but eyes were telling a slightly different story.

Felicity smiled back slowly, not knowing quite was going on between them, but content to let it be for now. Lately he seemed to be encroaching on and trampling over all sorts of boundaries, but it turned out she didn’t mind much at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for your lovely, lovely responses to my last story!! I was at Disneyland the day after I published that story (in the wee, wee hours of the morning), and all day I was checking my phone for feedback and _let me tell you_ **those comments and kudos were the best part of my day; better than Disneyland!**
> 
> Just so you know. :) I really appreciate it. 
> 
> As I said above, I'm still not at home, and as a matter of fact I wrote this story on a plane, which I now believe is the absolute _best_ writing environment EVAR. No distractions, nothing else to do. It's amazing. But my point was that, while on vacation my headspace seems to be all about these fun season 2 stories, and I have surrendered to the muse.


End file.
